


Meanwhile, in Redcliff

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: The Other Regan [22]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two of Regan's siblings have ended up in Redcliff after the mages have left.  What happens when Regan wants to collect them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meanwhile, in Redcliff

“Your majesty, we found these two men wandering just outside Redcliff.  One’s a mage – he was doing some sort of magic on a villager.”  The guardsman nudged the two men forward.

King Alistair sighed, rubbing his forehead.  Maker, how he wished his wife was here to keep him sane.  Or even Teagan.  But his wife was off … somewhere – he wasn’t even sure where anymore, trying to find a cure for the taint, and the arl was busy dealing with other issues in Redcliff after the rebel mages left to do Maker knew what with that Tevinter magister.  He _still_ couldn’t believe they’d done that.  But he had to admit, he was glad they were gone.  “Rebel mage?” he asked tiredly.

“Don’t think so, ser.  He’s traveling with a templar and they seem … like friends.”  Several of the king’s guard entered, surrounding the two strangers.  A flash of recognition crossed one guard’s face and it was all he could do to keep from shouting out.

Frowning, Alistair made his way over to the two men, looked them over.  “Mage and templar, friends?” he repeated, mulling the idea over.  “Not a common thing to see lately.”  He stared at the one he assumed was the mage, squinting as he took in the man’s auburn hair, green eyes and decidedly _not_ mage attire – tunic and trousers were not circle-approved mage -wear.  “What’s your name?  You look … familiar.  What Circle were you from?”

“My name is Gabriel, your majesty,” the mage responded.  “Formerly an enchanter of the Ostwick Circle.”  He was a little nervous, facing the King of Ferelden.  They’d heard enough of the villagers talk of what had gone on in Redcliff before they’d arrived; the rebel mages had made few friends, especially after the deal with some magister.

Alistair nodded thoughtfully, something about Ostwick tickling at the back of his mind.  He turned to the templar, wondering at the resemblance between the two.  The templar was older, bald either by nature or choice and had a world-weary air about him.  “And you, templar?  Your name and circle?”  Was he being too rude?  Was there such a thing as too rude at this point?  Look what the mages had done to his uncle’s town, after all.

“Aaron, your majesty,” he replied before glancing at his companion.  “I was trained at Ostwick’s circle, then stationed at Wycome.”  He wasn’t as nervous facing the king; he was a bit older than Alistair, for one.  And despite the fact that the king had helped end the last blight, he wasn’t any scarier than Aaron’s first Knight-Commander.  That man could give one nightmares.  

“And how did the two of you come to travel together?”  The king looked from one man to the other, wishing he could figure out why they looked so familiar.  “If I remember correctly, circles don’t typically allow mages and templars in different circles to correspond.”

Aaron and Gabriel exchanged a glance and the younger man shrugged.  What could it hurt, telling him the truth?  It would be better than lying and getting caught later.  Aaron stood a little straighter and explained.  “Gabriel and I are brothers.  Once the circles started falling … once Wycome’s circle disbanded, I set out to find him.”

“I was hiding in a cave when he managed,” Gabriel added.  “I’d been on the run for … I don’t even remember how long, actually – several mages from my circle kind of want me dead, since I _didn’t_ agree with them.”  The time in the cave had been brutal.  He was just glad he’d been able to create a thick enough wall of ice to block the opening most of the time.  “I didn’t want the circles to disband.  I liked my circle.”

“I see.  And what brought you both to Redcliff?”  Alistair started pacing, trying to figure out that little nagging thought at the back of his mind.  There was something familiar … something he felt he should know.  

While Aaron hesitated, wondering how much of their plans they should reveal, Gabriel went straight to the point.  “We were trying to make it to the Inquisition.  It’s been said that the Inquisitor is taking refugees – mages and templars who are tired of the fighting.  We kind of … got a little lost, and had only intended on stopping for supplies, but … there was someone hurt.  I … I couldn’t _not_ try to help.”

“Though his map-reading skills are lacking, Gabriel is good with healing spells,” Aaron explained, shaking his head slightly.  Sometimes he wished his brother was less … trusting.  “He is less skilled at knowing when to keep his … gifts a secret.”  He hadn’t wanted to call attention to the fact that one of them was a mage, but his brother wouldn’t listen.  “The villager had a broken leg and a stab wound, a few other injuries as well.  It looked like he’d crawled his way to the gates from somewhere to the west.”

“Well, that explains how they knew you were a mage when you’re not wearing circle robes, I suppose.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  “Given everything that’s happened here recently, I’m surprised they let you even try.”  When Gabriel explained that it was only Aaron’s presence that convinced the villager to let him try, the king nodded; it made sense.  Now, why did they both look so … familiar?  “So, what are you seeking here?  Asylum?  Refuge?  World domination?  If it’s that last one, I’d say you have some stiff competition, just so you know.  And don’t even think about trying to take the royal cheese stores; they’re safe in Denerim.”

“If we could just take a few days to rest, your majesty … maybe a week, it would be appreciated.”  Aaron looked the king in the eye, unflinching.  He would not beg for shelter, even from a king.  If they would not be welcome in Redcliff, they would just leave … find a cave or something to rest up in.  But warm beds, even for a few days, would be nice.  “We do not wish to cause trouble.  We’ve been on the move constantly since, well … since before the … incident at the Conclave, and a safe place to rest and heal would be nice.”

“You’ll understand, I hope, if I don’t _quite_ believe you.”  Alistair motioned to some of his guards – including the one who recognized the pair earlier - who stepped forward, two taking each of the men by the arm.  “I’d like to, of course.  I really would.  But the people of Redcliff have had enough of mages for a while, and so have I.  You’ll be given time and a place to rest, but it will have to be in the cells.  We’ll make them as comfortable as possible – fresh linens, food and water.  I can probably get a little ale smuggled in; I’ll even make sure there are real beds.  But the doors will remain … closed, and guards posted.  It’s as much for your safety as anything else.”

Cells?  They were going to be put into cells?  For just seeking a safe place to rest?  Aaron looked ready to say something – complain, demand, argue … something.  He stopped, wide eyed, when the guard at his side whispered in his ear.

“We appreciate any help you are willing to give us, your majesty,” Gabriel finally said, bowing as best he could.  “I … understand your hesitancy.  The rebel mages made it difficult for anyone to trust … well, anyone, anymore.  And the … I don’t know what to call them – rebel templars?  Overzealous templars?  Whatever they go by … everything makes it difficult to trust strangers.”

The guard nearest Aaron stepped up, glancing over his shoulder at the two men, and spoke.  “Might I have a word with you, your majesty – in private?”

Alistair looked perplexed, but nodded, motioning for the other guards to guide their … guests … to the cells.  He waited until the hall was cleared, then prompted.  “Alright, what word did you wish to have?”  He wished he could call the man by name, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.    

“I … I think I may know why the mage and templar look familiar to you, your majesty.”  The guard took a breath and lifted his helmet, removing the shadow that typically obscured his face.  He watched as Alistair’s eyes fell on distinct similarities – the shape of the eyes, the nose, the jaw.  As recognition crossed the king’s face, the younger man smiled awkwardly and nodded.  “Aaron and Gabriel are my brothers – older brothers, of course.”

Things suddenly started clicking into place.  “You were … your family was friendly with the Couslands, yes?”  Alistair tried to decide how suspicious he should be.  He vaguely remembered his brother-in-law suggesting Tristan for an open position some years back and his wife even supporting the idea.  The three had been somewhat acquainted in their youth, if he recalled correctly.  Yes, that all sounded very familiar.  “Did they know you worked for me and would be here?”

“They had no idea, your majesty,” Tristan assured him.  “I haven’t spoken to Aaron or Gabriel … or any of my siblings, in a few years.  They knew I was a member of the Ferelden army, but that was the extent of it.  When writing, I rarely mentioned details, for fear of prying eyes.”  He kept his helm against his side and stood, wondering just how badly he managed to screw up, revealing that he knew the pair.  “I … um, yes, our family was close with the Couslands; mother especially.  She and Auntie Eleanor grew up together, before mother was married into the Trevelyans.  They, um … well, ser, they ….”  Oh, Maker, why hadn’t he just stopped when he was ahead?  “At one point, they talked of having me marry … the … um, Auntie Eleanor’s daughter.  The talks didn’t last too long, really.  We were _really_ young at the time, and it would have been really strange, what with her and my sister sharing a name and all.”  He hurried to finish, hoping he hadn’t just offended the king.  

Wait; he was supposed to marry …?  Why had she never mentioned him?  Then again, she _had_ said her mother had tried numerous times; she’d only mentioned the ones that bothered her the most.  “That’s right.  I remember now.  We’ve discussed this before, haven’t we?”  When Tristan nodded, still looking nervous, he laughed, shaking his head.  “Oh, calm down.  I can’t be mad at you for something your parents, and hers, tried.  Besides, she never said anything _bad_ about you or your family, so I’m assuming things ended on a friendly note.”  He patted Tristan on the shoulder and motioned for him to walk with him.  “So these two are your siblings?  What do you think; should we let them run free in Redcliff?”

“Honestly?”  Tristan chewed the inside of his cheek nervously.  He knew Aaron and Gabriel could be trusted, Gabriel a little more than Aaron, typically; the templar had a tendency to just expect people to do what he wanted – oldest sibling and all.  But Redcliff had seen so much destruction as of late, thanks to mages.  Would Gabe even be safe outside the castle?  Would he be safe _in_ the castle?  “ _They_ wouldn’t do anything wrong if they were free.  I’m more concerned about what the people in Redcliff might do to Gabriel … and then what Aaron would do in order to protect him.”  He fidgeted, momentarily uncomfortable under Alistair’s thoughtful gaze.  “I mean, they’ve worked together since … at least since the conclave … to survive.  Aaron wouldn’t think twice about going after someone who posed a threat to Gabe, or himself.  And the same goes for Gabriel.”

“And what about you,” Alistair asked calmly.  “If you saw someone going after either one, would you step in?”

“In a heartbeat,” Tristan answered honestly, looking away.  “They’re family, your majesty.  Even more than you, or my brothers in arms are … they’re blood.”  He smirked, shaking his head.  “Now, if _they_ started something, I’d probably let them get good and trounced before interfering, but otherwise ….”

“So you think they’re safer in the cells?”  Alistair fought to keep from grinning at the man’s honesty.  He probably _did_ get along well with Regan when they were younger.  Tristan’s answering nod was enough reassurance that his decision had been the right one.  “I’m going to ask you for a favor … um … Tristan!”  Maker’s breath, he needed to find a way to remember names better.  “Well, two, actually.  First, draft a letter to the Inquisitor … let them know we have two refugees who would seek asylum with the Inquisition.  Say it however you like, but make sure it’s clear that while we will not do them any harm, they cannot stay.  Second, I would like you to be one of the guards stationed at their cells.  Make sure they understand why they’re being kept … I don’t want to say prisoner, because they’re not … really.  But there isn’t a really good word for what they are right now, is there?”  He sighed, again wishing his wife was at his side.  She’d be far more comfortable handling this.

“Yes ser, your majesty.”  Tristan paused, torn between saluting, bowing and offering to shake the king’s hand.  Theirs was a strange relationship; he had just enough knowledge of the queen’s childhood to be a potential source of embarrasment, but he’d made a name for himself in the military, impressing even Fergus Cousland and the king himself.  As long as his advisors weren’t around, Alistair pretty much treated him as a friend.  “And thank you, ser.  I’ll get the letter drafted straight away.

“There is … one other thing, your majesty.”  It hadn’t occurred to him until the king asked him to draft the letter.  He didn’t know for certain, but rumors about the Inquisitor made him … curious.  “I have heard that the Inquisitor is a woman whose name happens to be Trevelyan.  It’s possible … I mean, I don’t know for sure, but … there’s a chance that she’s also … related to me.”  He swallowed nervously, watching the king for any sign of anger.

“Well, that makes things … interesting,” Alistair smirked.  “I had heard the name, but apparently didn’t put two and two together.  I suppose we shall have to wait and see what this Inquisitor Trevelyan has to say.  If she is related to you, it might work out in our favor.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

“Cullen!”  Regan stormed into her commander’s office, a piece of parchment clenched in her hand.  “Commander, have you seen this?”  She tossed the crumpled parchment to him, still glowering.  “My brothers are being held in Redcliff, by the King of bloody Ferelden, no less!  And he couldn’t even bother to write me himself; he had some lackey do it!  And how is it our spies didn’t know this?  Why am I only learning this from the actual person responsible?”

Cullen looked up from the unread letter, hands gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles were white.  He just had to fight it a little longer; it would pass soon.  Pained eyes looked toward her – not really seeing, jaw clenched shut.  It had been so long since he’d suffered a bout like this; he thought he might have actually been past it.  Lately, it had just been the dreams … but today, the urge, the need for lyrium gnawed at him.  Just a few more minutes and it would pass – just a few more ….

She was about to say something further when she realized why he hadn’t responded.  He was having another attack, as she started thinking of them, and it looked like a bad one.  She hurried to him, slipped behind him and gently started rubbing fingers along his neck, the base of his skull down to his shoulders and back up.  She knew there wasn’t much that she could do to make it stop, but it always seemed like this helped.  Soothing whispers, kneading fingers, soft kisses against skin all worked to help him weather the withdrawal until she finally felt him relax.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shifting to smile at her.  “I … um, that felt nice.  Thank you.”  He hated that she had to see him fighting with the addiction.  It wasn’t fair to her to have to worry about him over something like that, but she never seemed to mind.  He cleared his chair and sat back down, pulling her into his lap with a smile.  There was something … calming about her being so close, and something invigorating.  “Now, you were saying?”  

She yelped in surprise as he pulled her down, then laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  She rested her cheek against his head and sighed.  “Ferelden’s king is holding my brothers in Redcliff.  His scribe claims they are being held for their own safety, after everything that happened there with the mages.  It is being requested that we send some men to act as escorts to ensure their safe departure from Redcliff.”  She grumbled, fighting the urge to purr as she felt his hand drift along her spine.  “Also, I didn’t mean to just barge in ….  If I had known what you were going through ….”

“Shhh.”  He rested a finger against her lips and groaned softly when she teasingly wrapped her lips around it, suckling ever so slightly.  “It’s alright.  You have nothing to apologize for.”  He took a breath to clear his head.  Just her being this close brought desires to the surface, and that thing with the finger just made it worse … better?  He needed to concentrate.  Clearing his throat, he swallowed, licked his lips.  “I take it you want to ride for Redcliff?  Escort your brothers ourselves?”  When she nodded, he agreed, but made no move to get up.  “He probably has a point, though.  Think about it – the people of Redcliff were basically run out of their homes when the rebel mages took over.  The king had been trying to be considerate to those who asked for refuge and they basically shat on his hospitality.  Now, there’s another mage showing up, asking for help.  Even if he’s with a templar, it’s still probably safer for them to be kept out of sight.”

She frowned, biting her lip.  She hated the idea, but she knew he was right.  It wasn’t like the king had no reason to be distrustful of mages at this point.  She just hated the idea of her brothers behind bars.  “I’m riding out today … soon, actually.”  She sighed, leaning against him.  “I … I wanted to ask you to come, but … if you have other duties here ….”  She let that thought trail off, not wanting to push him.  She knew he had actual responsibilities that had nothing to do with her whims.

“Nothing could keep me from your side, Regan,” he whispered, nuzzling at her throat.  He groaned as she squirmed in his lap, twisting so that she could straddle his thighs and press her lips against his.  He gripped her hips, harder than he intended, held her to him.  Maker, this – her in his arms, devouring her mouth – was bliss.  The only thing that might be better would be ….  He growled, the sound rumbling in his chest.  He nudged her back reluctantly, fighting the urge to answer her whimper with one of his own.  “If we … don’t stop this now, I … ahem … I fear we will never reach your brothers.”

“I hate you,” she answered, though the smile on her face kind of negated the statement.  “We will continue this … discussion … later.”  She stood, swallowing thickly as a chill ran down her spine.  Andraste preserve her, she loved what he did to her.  She took a moment to calm her pulse, and give him time to cool down as well.  “So you’ll come with me?” she finally asked, wondering why she was suddenly so nervous.  His confirming nod was all she needed; she grabbed his hand and practically pulling him to the stables, where the horse master was waiting with the two saddled mounts – Angel and Thranduil.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

They arrived in Redcliff sooner than expected; the pace Regan had set was near breakneck.  She wanted to get her brothers out as soon as possible.  The ride back could go slower.  It would have to – the two mounts would have double the riders at that point.  The guard at the gates directed them to Redcliff castle, refusing to leave his post.  The guards at the castle gates, however, insisted on escorting the pair in once the horse and hart were tended to.

They were led to a small room that Regan was sure wasn’t the throne room.  It almost looked like an unused store room – just the one door that she could see, no windows, lots of shelves.  “Oh, please tell me we haven’t ridden right into some bloody trap,” she muttered, looking around as the door closed behind them.  

“I … don’t think the king would have set a trap.”  Cullen frowned, hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword, just in case.  He knew she had a point; the room was a perfect place to ambush them – one way out, no hiding places.

“But we don’t know that the king invited us,” Regan pointed out, checking the walls.  “Remember, it was written by a scribe.  For all I know, it was written by some bandit or merc.”

The door opened suddenly and one of the king’s guards walked in.  “I rather hope I write more elegantly than a bandit, Inquisitor.”  He felt a slight … tingle, there was no other way to really describe it.  It was something that hadn’t happened since his sister last came to visit him in Denerim.  He had just been a soldier in the king’s army then.  But here it was, happening again.  He couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his face as he removed his helmet.

Wait, she knew that voice, that familiar feeling in her gut.  It had been years since she’d felt the pull that strongly.  How did she not realize before now?  She kept her back turned for a moment, wondering if she was just … imagining things; maybe she was dreaming.  Had she hit her head?  Had the guards actually knocked her out and this was all some sort of figment of her imagination?  Slowly, she turned, a grin spreading across her face.

Cullen tensed when the door opened, but when the man coming in didn’t so much as raise a blade, he slowly relaxed.  He had noticed Regan’s reactions to the newcomer’s voice and when she turned, he saw that smile … the one that had entranced him the first time.  It lit up her face like a beacon.  He turned to glare at the guard for earning such a grin, and found himself staring.  It was … almost like looking at a mirror image of her.  There were slight differences: the eye color for one – no one had eyes like she did, the hair was cut different – his was shorter, clipped close, but he could tell the color was identical, nose, mouth, face … they even had similar builds.  The biggest difference was that the guard was male, otherwise ….

“Tris … Tristan?”  Regan leapt at him, wrapping her arms around her brother tightly.  “You idiot; why didn’t you tell me you were in Redcliff?  Why didn’t you tell me you wrote that letter?”  She couldn’t stop grinning.  She was sure she looked like a fool.  

Cullen just watched, stunned at how much alike the two looked.  He remembered her mentioning that she had a twin, but for some reason, he hadn’t realized they would look so much like each other.  He moved forward, gently resting a hand against Regan’s hip, silently watching, suddenly feeling a bit … left out.

“We didn’t know for sure which Trevelyan was declared the Inquisitor,” Tristan explained, shrugging.  “It could have been you.  It could have been Weslyn.  Hell, it could have been one of those annoying relatives who look for any chance to mingle with the higher nobility.”  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled faintly; the king was coming down the hall.  “King Alistair didn’t want to run the risk of it being the latter and them thinking they had a leg up because of my position here … or our history with the queen’s family.  That’s also why you’re waiting in here, rather than the throne room.”

“Well, one reason, anyway.”  Alistair made his way into the room with a laugh.  It was so nice to get away from the retainers Eamon forced him to bring along.  The discovery of the Venatori in the castle kitchens in Denerim was enough to make his advisor overly cautious.  It was only with the repeated assurance that there would be an armed guard with him at all times that they allowed him to wander Redcliff Castle alone.  He still couldn’t figure that out; he was a capable warrior, been one of the people who’d helped stop the last blight, the bloody king, and he still wasn’t allowed to wander the halls of his uncle’s castle alone.  “It also gives me a wonderful excuse to escape all those blasted retainers and hangers-on.  Maker’s breath, it’s like some of those women forget I’m married.”

“Or they don’t care,” Tristan pointed out, smirking.  

“They’ll care when my wife gets back and I inform her just how handsy they’ve been,” Alistair muttered, scrunching his face in annoyance.

“You _really_ want to give them a heart attack, walk through that door with the Inquisitor on your arm, looking just a hair disheveled.  That’d set tongues wagging.”  He laughed as his sister stuck her tongue out at him.  Maker, it felt like old times.  “Your majesty, may I present the Inquisitor, Lady Regan Trevelyan and … her bodyguard?”

“Cullen, your majesty.”  He introduced himself, bowing as much as his current position would allow.  He did not want to relinquish his hold on her if he didn’t have to.  “Commander of the Inquisition’s military forces.”  He wondered if the king remembered … it had been more than ten years now.  Things he’d said had been … unkind was too nice a word for some of the things he’d said.  

“Looks like you’re a bit more than just that,” Alistair mused, smiling.  He noticed how the man held her, gently pulling her closer.  He recognized the small glances, the way she moved in response.  It was all much like the way he and his Regan had behaved, especially early on, when confronted with someone one of them deemed a possible threat to the unsure relationship.  Something else was familiar about the man, and after much tickling at the back of his brain, it finally hit him.  “Weren’t you … at the circle in Ferelden … during the blight?”

Cullen frowned slightly, nodding.  “I was, your majesty,” he admitted, looking away.  He was embarrassed that anyone had seen him at such a point, and the things he had said ….  “I was … I was the one near the top of the … near the Harrowing chamber.”

“It was the strangest thing,” Alistair added.  “Stuck behind some magical barrier that even templar abilities couldn’t destroy; frustrated me to no end when I couldn’t dispel it.”  He chuckled at the surprised looks from the two Trevelyans and rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.  “I trained to be a templar before I became a grey warden … all of which happened before I ended up here,” he explained simply.  “There’s a lot more to the story, I suppose, but that will have to wait.”  He looked back at Cullen and smiled.  “I’m glad to see you survived, both that ordeal and the whole mess in Kirkwall.  And Regan … _my_ Regan, I mean, will be pleased to hear it as well.”    Maker, that was going to get confusing if he wasn’t careful.

“I … I never properly thanked either of you.”  Cullen didn’t know how he could thank them for freeing him, saving Ferelden … any of it.  “But despite what I said in that cage, I … I was … am … grateful for your intervention back then.”

“Your majesty,” Tristan interrupted hesitantly.  “I hate to say this, but if you’re gone for too much longer, someone is going to come looking for you.  Even if you do have an armed guard, they’ll fear you’ve run off – maybe more so knowing you have an armed escort.”  

Alistair groaned and shook his head.  “Sometimes I wonder why I wanted this.  Oh, wait, I didn’t.  I just didn’t want that traitor’s daughter on the throne more.”  He pursed his lips and gestured for everyone to follow.  “We’ve tried to make them as comfortable as possible.  The cell doors aren’t locked, and they even get to eat some of the royal cheese!”  As they moved through the hallways, he and Tristan explained their motivation for keeping the two men in cells, hoping that the others understood.  

When they reached the cells, Tristan went in first, followed by his sister and Cullen, and Alistair bringing up the rear.  The king was surprised to realize some of her behaviors reminded him more than a little of his wife.  It actually made him a little jealous of Cullen; at least she was here.  His Regan’s notes were too few and far apart to help, much.  He just wanted her back.  He should just leave them to their reunion, give them some privacy.  But if he left the cells without Tristan, he’d never hear the end of it from Eamon, or Teagan, or … someone, and they’d never give him any privacy.  And besides, it gave Cullen someone to stand with, so he didn’t feel so out of place either.  

Tristan waited for his brothers to open their cell doors- the king hadn’t been lying, the doors were unlocked, but they had remained closed to give the illusion of confinement.  “The Inquisitor is here to bust you two troublemakers out,” he teased, hugging each one.  He hated to see them both go, but for their sakes, it was best.  Maybe when everything calmed down again, it might be easier to get together.  “I’d advise you both to watch yourselves.  She seems … shifty.”

“Oh, very funny,” Regan smirked, stepping forward.  She knew what he was trying to do – throw them off, ensure they had no clue the dreaded Inquisitor was really just their baby sister.  If they had actually been at Skyhold, she would have been all for it.  But they really didn’t have the time.  “I’m not that scary.”  She grinned as Aaron and Gabriel realized just who had stepped up.  It took a whole two seconds for Gabe to leap forward, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  Aaron was more reserved, but even he embraced his siblings, pulling Tristan in as well.  

“Andraste, preserve me,” Cullen muttered, shaking his head.  “They all do look quite a bit alike, don’t they?  The younger three especially.”  He could easily see why people had just assumed Gabriel had been a third in a set of triplets.  The resemblance was almost uncanny, even after several years apart and vastly different lifestyles.  

“Keep a close eye on your Regan,” Alistair advised, patting the commander on the shoulder.  “If she’s anything like my wife, she’ll find a way to use that similarity to her advantage, somewhere.”  When Cullen looked over, confused, Alistair just shrugged.  “Tristan has told me a bit about his family; not that his sister was the Inquisitor of course – I didn’t learn about that until these two showed up, but things they did growing up.  Turns out she was a lot like the my Regan as a youth, though the latter didn’t have the benefit of having siblings that so closely resembled her.  I don’t think Thedas could have survived if there were.”

“It will certainly make Skyhold more … interesting,” Cullen sighed, rubbing his forehead.  “I know we have imposed enough on your majesty, but if I might make one more request?”  When Alistair nodded, he smiled awkwardly.  “It is nearly mealtime.  Would it be possible for … for the lot of us to … well, to join you in a meal before we depart?  Make all this ….”  He gestured toward the four siblings and found himself missing his own.  “It would make all this seem more like a diplomatic meeting than a … rescue mission.”

Alistair practically slapped a hand to his forehead.  “Maker’s breath!  My wife would have my head if I let you leave without real food.  If you happen to hear from her, don’t mention that, please?”  He actually looked worried about the idea.  “I would have remembered eventually, I’m sure.  Yes, we’ll just go with that.”  He called the two guards over and sent them back to their normal posts; now that the Inquisition had ‘taken possession of’ the mage and templar, they were no longer his concern.  He asked that one of them let the kitchens know there would be four extra mouths at dinner.  

Dinner … it was that late, wasn’t it?  Could he really send them out this late when they’d be making camp within an hour or so?  “Why don’t you all spend the night here?” he asked Cullen quietly.  “It’s already near dinner, as you pointed out.  By the time you’re fed and leave, you’d only get an hour or so of travel in before you set up camp.”  He shrugged lightly.  “One thing I learned during the blight - a real bed will always be preferable to sleeping on the ground.”

The king had a point.  Cullen pursed his lips, looked over and watched her for a moment.  It would be nice to have an evening without the constant distractions of the Inquisition.  They rarely had a moment to themselves, between runners looking for her, soldiers needing his attention, rifts that needed closing, and countless other issues.  “I believe you are correct, your majesty,” he finally answered.  “But what of our two new charges; will they be confined to cells for another night?”  He knew if that was the case, Regan would insist on leaving immediately.  She had been livid when she’d discovered they were sleeping in cells.

“Maker, no.”  Alistair shook his head, frowning.  “The only reason they were there in the first place was to keep the people of Redcliff from trying to enact some sort of bizarre revenge on an innocent mage just because he’s here.”  He hadn’t wanted to throw them in cells, not really.  “Guards will be posted at any main doors, and I’m fairly certain Tristan will want to be in a position to protect them as well, while they’re here.”

Cullen smiled, nodding his approval.  He waited another moment, then excused himself to advise the pack of Trevelyans of the change in plans.  He was caught off guard when Gabriel pulled him into a hug, thinking that this response was surely not more than what was required in response to being told they were getting let out of their cages.

“Careful, Gabe.” Regan laughed, gently slipping her arms around the commander’s waist, slyly prying her brother loose.  “Don’t break him; he’s mine.”  She smiled shyly at Cullen as Gabriel pulled back, laughing.  “And I want him in good working condition.”


End file.
